The guy croaks out, "He said he wanted me here as backup.”
In one swift motion, Salvatore throws him bodily against the wall of the cabin. I've been here before. I don't even flinch when the guy’s body cracks against the wall and crumples to the floor. I don't react in any way, though I feel a little smug this guy is getting what's coming to him.
A smart man would probably realize that he's crossed the line. But maybe this guy is missing a couple of brain cells because he doesn't become subdued, or question whether or not he's going to be killed in the next minute. Instead, he scrambles to his feet, his face red with fury.
The other men watch, ready, waiting for instruction from Salvatore. But one, a tall, lithe ginger, stands right next to me.
"You okay?” he asks.
I nod. "Of course."
If Salvatore is like my brothers, then those who work for him will learn who I am and how to respect me. It's important that I show them I am not easily intimidated. “I’m fine. Someone seems to have overstepped, hmm?”
I try to keep a stoic face, but when Salvatore grabs the man by a fistful of his hair and yanks him around, I feel it.
I won't let myself look away.
I watch as my almost-husband beats the shit out of the guy that touched me. A vicious right hook that breaks bone, a splatter of blood across the airplane window. No one moves or even makes a sound as Salvatore punishes him severely.
"You think I didn't hear your fucking bullshit when I was on the phone? Who the fuck are you and how did you get here?"
"Cristiano hired me,” the guy says.
“He told you to bully my betrothed? Did he?”
Salvatore yanks him to his feet only to knock him down again. And again. And again.
"Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to my future wife like that? If we were home, I’d cut off your fucking fingers for daring to touch her. You don't ever fucking touch what’s mine. You don't talk to her. You do not even fuckinglookat her.”
Everything he says with a calm, cool collectedness I’m familiar with.
The guy’s face is unrecognizable, his clothes shredded, and his face a bloody mess of bone, flesh, and blood. Still, I force myself to look.
Salvatore shoves him to his knees. I didn't notice when he drew his weapon, but now he cocks it and points it to the guy’s temple. Blondie starts begging for his life, crying.
My heart beats so wildly I can't stand it, but I keep my face impassive. This is what a woman does in the face of cruelty in my family. This is what a woman does in the face of cruelty inhis.
He could kill him. He might just be threatening him. In any event, I will not look away.
"You're dismissed from my company. You ever come within fifty yards of my future wife again, I will cut off your balls before I put my gun to your temple and shred your brains. Do you understand me?"
The other guy cries and pleads like a child. His mouth is a swollen, bloody mess, but he still manages to eke out, "Yes, sir.” He spits blood onto the floor.
Salvatore knocks the butt of the gun against his temple and mercifully puts the man out cold. None of his men move, but I can tell that every one of them is waiting for a command.
Salvatore bends down, grabs the guy by the arm and drags him. Blood and spittle fall to the floor of the plane. I still don’t flinch.
Salvatore looks over his left shoulder and makes eye contact with a tall, burly guy about ten years older than him. “Throw him from the motherfucking plane."
He hands him to the older man, who holds him like a sack of rotten potatoes. Another guy opens the plane door. I watch as the brutalized man falls to the ground with a sickening thud.
The door shuts. Salvatore shrugs and scowls at his hands. One of his men scrambles to get him something to clean them with.
The ignition of the plane starts.
Salvatore stretches, cracks his neck, and walks over to me. He crouches in front of me, miraculously now devoid of blood or lacerations after delivering that beating.
"You did good,bella mia.No one will ever speak to you that way.”